Manhattan Transfer by John Dos Passos Read Free Book Online

used to have in Frisco in the ole days.’
    ‘Ah those were great days those.’
    ‘By the way,’ the moonfaced man steadied himself against the wall, ‘Holyoke ole fella, did you shee that very nobby little article on the rubber trade I got into the morning papers… That’ll make the investors nibble… like lil mishe.’
    ‘Whash you know about rubber?… The stuff aint no good.’
    ‘You wait an shee, Holyoke ole fella or you looshing opportunity of your life… Drunk or sober I can smell money… on the wind.’
    ‘Why aint you got any then?’ The bottlenosed man’s beefred face went purple; he doubled up letting out great hoots of laughter.
    ‘Because I always let my friends in on my tips,’ said the other man soberly. ‘Hay boy where’s zis here private dinin room?’
    ‘Par ici monsieur.’
    A red accordionpleated dress swirled past them, a little oval face framed by brown flat curls, pearly teeth in an open-mouthed laugh.
    ‘Fifi Waters,’ everyone shouted. ‘Why my darlin lil Fifi, come to my arms.’
    She was lifted onto a chair where she stood jiggling from one foot to the other, champagne dripping out of a tipped glass.
    ‘Merry Christmas.’
    ‘Happy New Year.’
    ‘Many returns of the day…’
    A fair young man who had followed her in was reeling intricately round the table singing:
    O we went to the animals’ fair
And the birds and the beasts were there
And the big baboon
By the light of the moon
Was combing his auburn hair.
    ‘Hoopla,’ cried Fifi Waters and mussed the gray hair of the man with the diamond stud. ‘Hoopla.’ She jumped down with a kick, pranced round the room, kicking high with her skirts fluffed up around her knees.
    ‘Oh la la ze French high kicker!’
    ‘Look out for the Pony Ballet.’
    Her slender legs, shiny black silk stockings tapering to red rosetted slippers flashed in the men’s faces.
    ‘She’s a mad thing,’ cried the lady in the tiara.
    Hoopla. Holyoke was swaying in the doorway with his top hat tilted over the glowing bulb of his nose. She let out a whoop and kicked it off.
    ‘It’s a goal,’ everyone cried.
    ‘For crissake you kicked me in the eye.’
    She stared at him a second with round eyes and then burst into tears on the broad shirtfront of the diamond stud. ‘I wont be insulted like that,’ she sobbed.
    ‘Rub the other eye.’
    ‘Get a bandage someone.’
    ‘Goddam it she may have put his eye out.’
    ‘Call a cab there waiter.’
    ‘Where’s a doctor?’
    ‘That’s hell to pay ole fella.’
    A handkerchief full of tears and blood pressed to his eye the bottlenosed man stumbled out. The men and women crowded through the door after him; last went the blond young man, reeling and singing:
    An the big baboon by the light of the moon
Was combing his auburn hair.
    Fifi Waters was sobbing with her head on the table.
    ‘Don’t cry Fifi,’ said the Colonel who was still sitting where he had sat all the evening. ‘Here’s something I rather fancy might do you good.’ He pushed a glass of champagne towards her down the table.
    She sniffled and began drinking it in little sips. ‘Hullo Roger, how’s the boy?’
    ‘The boy’s quite well thank you… Rather bored, dont you know? An evening with such infernal bounders…’
    ‘I’m hungry.’
    ‘There doesnt seem to be anything left to eat.’
    ‘I didnt know you’d be here or I’d have come earlier, honest.’
    ‘Would you indeed?… Now that’s very nice.’
    The long ash dropped from the Colonel’s cigar; he got to his feet. ‘Now Fifi, I’ll call a cab and we’ll go for a ride in the Park…’
    She drank down her champagne and nodded brightly. ‘Dear me it’s four o’clock…’ ‘You have the proper wraps haven’t you?’
    She nodded again.
    ‘Splendid Fifi… I say you are in form.’ The Colonel’s cigarcolored face was unraveling in smiles. ‘Well, come along.’
    She looked about her in a dazed way. ‘Didnt I come with somebody?’
    ‘Quite